


The Chief of Sexual Affairs

by literaryempress



Series: My Ask Box Corner [8]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Affairs, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian, Car Chases, Drug Use, Drugs, Established Relationship, Fights, High School, Jealousy, Kidnapping, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Non-Consensual Kissing, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Protectiveness, Sexual Content, Teacher Ian, Teenage Yevgeny, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:53:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6817957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryempress/pseuds/literaryempress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original Prompt: <em>Ian and Mickey are happily together....Ian has just started a new job and is meeting lots of interesting g people, one guy in particular who becomes obsessed with Ian. He does anything to get near Ian, tries to drive a wedge between Ian and Mickey when he learns about Mickey, and becomes stalkerish. He even tries to use Ian's bipolar against him, replace his meds, easier to have his way. Mickey has got his work cut out for him protecting what is his and trying to keep Ian stable at the same time</em></p><p>Ian is a new English teacher at Daley Graham High School. All of his employees seem to like him, including the school's principal, who intends on making Ian and Mickey's life a living hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Class In Session

The day had finally come, and Ian was quite nervous about how it would all go. He hasn’t been in a school setting in a while, much less a high school setting. The environment felt so familiar: jocks and cheerleaders strolling down the hall, hand in hand; instruments playing near the band room; uproars coming from the school’s gymnasium. Ian had missed his chance to finish his senior year of high school, but he was at least thankful that he got to work as an English teacher so he could catch a glance at the excitement he missed out on.

Mickey believed he could make it here if he tried as hard as he could to do so, which Ian did. The two of them have been scouting out new job offers for almost three months, and near the end of May, they had found something Ian seemed to enjoy.

Ian still needed to get his Bachelor’s degree before he applied for the job, and he also needed his GED, but with Mickey’s help, he was able to get both in almost no time. Even better, the people looking over his application were very pleased with Ian’s contributions stated on his resume, which landed him the job two weeks after he sent his application forms.

Today was the first day of school at Daley Graham High School. This was his first day of handling high school teenagers – and not in the student’s perspective. As excited as Ian was, he was also nervous. Luckily, Mickey was able to comfort him before dropping him off.

The moment Ian walked through the double doors of the building, he almost immediately felt like he didn’t belong here. Literally. The first group of people he saw upon his entrance were a bunch of teen girls talking about where they went for summer vacation and who they had their eyes set on. God, Ian missed being a teenager himself just looking at them.

He was suddenly met with a bump to the back, and when Ian turned his head, he saw a few more students, mostly male – some of them looked like seniors, from what he could tell.

“Watch it, noob,” the one with the Mohawk scolded him, which earned a couple of silent giggles.

Well, there were some things about being a teenager that Ian won’t miss, anyway.

Ian strolled down a couple of hallways after collecting himself and eventually found the conference room near the main office where he was supposed to be. There had to have been about fifteen other teachers inside, along with the principal and assistant principal.

 _So this is what being a teacher is like, huh?_ Ian started to get nervous. He tried remembering what Mickey told him earlier to calm him down.

“If you get nervous, just pretend I’m right next to you,” Mickey’s voice rang through Ian’s memory, “it oughta work every time, right?”

That’s what Ian hoped, and he was sure to take Mickey’s word for it.

“Mr. Gallagher?” A woman with curly, light brown hair addressed Ian from afar. All eyes were suddenly on Ian, and Mickey’s advice didn’t seem to go to well so far. Or maybe they weren’t in full effect just yet. Maybe a couple more seconds or so, Ian’s heart can slow down a bit.

Ian looked around at the different teachers seated at the round table in front of him. Some of them looked too bored or too tired to even want to be here. Others looked at Ian, wondering why he was even here in the first place. _Shouldn’t he be doing something other than educating a bunch of loud, annoying kids?_ Ian imagined them asking him in his mind.

The one thing that kept Ian from being taken aback by those kind of questions is the idea that everyone was a so-called loud, annoying kid once. Hell, even Ian was, and out of all the Gallaghers within the household aside from his youngest brother Liam, he seemed to create the least amount of trouble for his eldest sister Fiona, who had to raise them all due to poor parenting and neglect.

“Uh,” Ian stammered for a moment. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

The woman smiled at him and gestured towards an empty seat off to the side somewhere. “Great. Have a seat,” she told him, and Ian walked over to the chair beside a heavyset man with a bow-tie. “We were just reviewing the schedule with everyone, but now that you have arrived, I would like for all of us to get to know each other.”

Ian felt so out of place since he’s walked through the front door, and now he has to introduce himself to a bunch of educators who have been here for more than three years, it seems like.

 _Remember what Mick told you, Ian. Remember what he told you_.

“Uh, I’m Ian Gallagher,” he spoke a little timidly to the other individuals sitting down near him. “This is my first day here, and, um, I’m a part of the English department now.”

His introduction felt half-assed, but everyone else didn’t think so. Or the assistant principal didn’t, anyway. “Welcome aboard, Ian,” she responded. “As you know, I’m the assistant principal, Miss Alexander.” She gestured towards a man standing right next to her. “And this is the principal, Mr. Sawyer. You can come to either one of us if you have questions about the class material or any issues that arise.”

Ian nodded and smiled a bit afterwards. “Thanks.” Okay, maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

Miss Alexander and Mr. Sawyer continued to speak about the agendas, class conduct, and other important rules and restrictions the students and staff needed to follow for the next ten to fifteen minutes or so. Soon after that, all of the teachers were sent to their assigned classrooms.

Room 209 was full of loud students – juniors, Ian assumes. He hadn’t expected to work with older students just yet, but he was willing to do whatever he could to contribute to the school environment, and if that meant lecturing sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds on _Huckleberry Finn_ , then so be it.

“They’re not as wild as you think,” a voice spoke before Ian had a chance to walk through the door, and Ian immediately whirled around in surprise. Mr. Sawyer has probably been here long enough to realize how much of a fucking pussy his new staff member was. “Sorry about that. I usually check each floor for conduct.”

Ian seemed to visibly relax, though Mr. Sawyer’s entrance felt very off guard. “No problem.”

“I had a similar situation when I was first selected as the principal of this school,” Mr. Sawyer told Ian, leaning against the lockers and folding his arms in front of his chest. “My late father had given me some useful advice: you’re bigger than your own expectations of yourself.”

Ian nodded, impressed with his father’s choice of words. “Trust me, Mr. Gallagher,” Mr. Sawyer continued, and Ian straightened up a bit at the formal name for himself, “you’re going to do just fine here. It’s like being a student, but this time, you have more authority.”

That was one of the reasons why Ian wanted to take this job. Even if he never went to this school, he was familiar with the high school setting and wanted to be somewhere where he’s comfortable with the people around him. Mr. Sawyer especially seemed like a nice guy to him and gave him very useful advice – exactly how he described it.

With that, Ian nodded at him once again and thanked him before taking a deep breath and walking through the classroom. All of the students inside suddenly got quiet as Ian placed his belongings on the table, prepared to start his first day of class.

* * *

“Ay,” Mickey greeted Ian when he walked through the front door with his briefcase. He was preparing some dinner as his son Yevgeny sat in front of the television with a book from school next to him on the cushion and a half-full can of Fanta in his hand. “How was your first day?”

Ian was completely exhausted. He’s probably seen about a hundred students today, some of them willing to give Ian a harder time than others. Now he understood why some of his high school teachers didn’t like their jobs.

That wasn’t enough motivation for Ian to quit, though.

“Tiring,” Ian stated, placing his briefcase down by the coat rack. He strode on over to the kitchen island where his husband was looking over the ingredients for spaghetti. “About forty of them gave me stink eyes when I assigned them their first worksheets, but at least I didn’t have to kick anyone out the class just yet.”

Mickey smirked. He could imagine Ian using his deep voice in front of one of his students when he got mad, or shouting to a group of loud students in the back of his classroom when they weren’t paying attention to the material.

Huh. _His_ students. _His_ classroom. That had a nice ring to it.

“And that’s when you get to play the big, bad wolf?” Mickey asked, inching an eyebrow.

Ian shrugged. “I can’t hurt ‘em too much.”

“I bet you can’t,” Mickey replied in his low, somewhat seductive tone. Ian loved it when Mickey did that. At times, he found it a little humorous when his husband got in the mood at the weirdest times. Others, he wanted Mickey to prove just how cocky he could actually get with that tone held in between his lips.

Though Ian is pretty much the cocky one, if you catch his drift.

Mickey leaned closer to Ian, and the two of them engaged in a soft, passionate kiss. Ian shut both of his eyes in favor of allowing Mickey to loosen the tension throughout his body with shoulder massages and licks to Ian’s tongue. He responded with both hands on Mickey’s waist. He’d do anything to wreck the man right now, if he wasn’t so tired.

“I’m in the room, you know!” Yevgeny’s voice interrupted the two, and both Ian and Mickey turned their heads to face the fourteen-year-old watching them from the couch.

“You don’t have to be, you know,” Mickey responded, earning a giggle from Ian.

Now that Ian and Mickey had his full attention, Yevgeny fully turned around in his seat, his knees pressing into the cushion underneath him. “Why does Dad have to work at my school again?” he asked, leaning his cheek against his hand. “People in my grade are going to start calling me teacher’s pet.”

“I’m pretty sure pets can’t speak for themselves,” Ian noted as-a-matter-of-factly, rounding the kitchen island in favor of grabbing the lettuce and tomatoes out of the fridge. “You’re a big boy now. Show them who’s boss.”

Mickey nodded. “Yeah, and they don’t know whose dad they’re fucking with,” he added, not giving two shits about the way Ian rolled his eyes at Mickey’s constant need for a curse word in almost every sentence. “Let me hear about one incident with you and those brats, and I’ll have them wishing it was winter break so they won’t have to see the school’s new English teacher and his right hand with a belt in their hands.”

The redhead smirked as Mickey returned to checking on the spaghetti. “Right hand? That’s what you are to me now?”

“Fuck off,” Mickey replied without any bite to his tone. “You know what I mean.” He turned behind him for a second to eye the bottle of prescription medicine beside the sink. “Your medicine’s over there, sport.”

“Alright, fine,” the redhead replied playfully.

Ian kept his eyes on Mickey, whose back was turned to Ian as he stirred the spaghetti up while it was cooking in the pot. They had been married for about two or three years, but they have been in a relationship in general for much longer than that. Their teenage years consisted of their easiest moments – the calm before the storm, as one would put it.

At the age of seventeen, Ian had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, which caused a stream of problems in not only his personal life, but also his love life. He and Mickey broke up for a certain period of time, and after going on a few dates and making attempts to get his life back on track, Ian found himself back at square one. That’s when he and Mickey started talking to each other again – most of the conversation coming from Ian’s side – and Mickey agreed to work things out again.

Reflecting back on that day, Ian remembered why he came back to Mickey in the first place. Something about them seemed to click more than it did with Ian’s other relationships. Ian knew Mickey just as much as Mickey knew Ian. They had fun together – laughed, cried, hugged, kissed. Sure, they would get in very fierce, often dangerous arguments with each other, but somehow, they always found a way back to each other.

That’s how they ended up here: both working very stable jobs, taking care of Yevgeny with Mickey’s ex-wife, and having enough money to live in an apartment together. They ended up here because they were able to work together so well.

Ian strolled on over to his husband, who was oblivious to Ian’s need to touch him anywhere on his body – on his chest, on his back, on his _ass_ …

Well, maybe later since Yevgeny is aware of them in the room.

 _Ah, fuck it_.

“Wanna guess where _my_ right hand is?” Ian asked, lowly and suggestive in Mickey’s left ear. Yevgeny had returned to watching television, so this should be a little fine, shouldn’t it?

Mickey giggled at Ian’s lack of subtlety and the five finger pads pressing into his ass cheek. How has been able to deal with this giant nerd for so long? “No idea, man,” he replied, stirring the spaghetti some more before giving up and placing the spoon on the side somewhere.

“I’ll give you a hint as to where it’s gonna go in a few seconds,” Ian growled, bringing his other hand around Mickey’s waist, bringing the shorter man closer to his chest. Mickey’s shoulders hunched upwards as Ian placed a warm, wet kiss to his neck.

Yevgeny, still facing the television screen, scoffed as his parents spoke among themselves in the kitchen. Truth is, they weren’t as quiet as they thought they were. The poor boy’s little mind was tainted with tiny moans, groans, and kisses already; he was only lucky to have not turned back around.

“Fucking gross.”

* * *

Within two and a half months’ time, Ian was considered to be one of the best teachers in the school, according to the Graham High students. Ian didn’t want their school experience to be too stressful, especially since they would eventually have to deal with the anxiety of college courses at some point. So Ian stuck with using interactive activities during his lessons to help the students take notes and memorize key themes and scenes from the books. Many of the students in the class got high scores on their morning quizzes, which especially made Ian proud of his techniques.

Ian’s final class of the day was complete, and the students were headed to the exits of the room to get to their lockers. What especially made Ian’s day was to see a couple of female students wave him a farewell with the most genuine smiles on their faces. That’s how Ian knew he was doing something right.

A raven-haired girl had just left the room to leave Ian with a ton of papers to grade when the principal entered the room. “Sounds like things are going well after all,” Mr. Sawyer stated.

They were, and Ian couldn’t be anymore grateful.

Ian shrugged, glancing down at some of the papers in a stack in front of him. “It started with some tactic I wanted to try out a while ago,” he explained.

Mr. Sawyer’s eyebrows rose a bit, impressed. “Fascinating.”

“Yeah, I, uh,” Ian replied, “my sister Fiona helped me work some things out, so I can’t really take all the credit.”

The man before him placed a hand to his own chest. “Well, I beg to differ,” he stated, sounding a little hurt, and Ian glanced back up at him with confusion in his eyes. “Many teachers claim to want to bring improvement to the table, but some of them don’t dedicate themselves like you do.”

The redhead shrugged. “I – I’m sure they do, kinda.”

Mr. Sawyer sighed, shaking his head at Ian. “I admire you, Mr. Gallagher. You see the best in people, which is a very wonderful attribute in a human being, much less a high school English teacher.”

Ian nodded with a smile on his face. “Thank you, sir.”

Before taking this job, Ian assumed that all high school principals were the same. Most of it probably had to do with the fact that, way back when, Ian was a student just like all of the ones that stepped foot in his classroom.

In a student’s perspective, the principals were the bad guys of the institution, and all of the teachers and security that roamed around were their little minions. Whatever the principals told them to do, they followed their orders. Many instances, the students didn’t like the actions being used against them. Ian wasn’t the kind of person that got in trouble with teachers or anything like that, but he’s seen many instances to attest that concept.

Now that he was the one of some kind of authority, he saw things in a completely different perspective. Mr. Sawyer was nicer than Ian perceived his own principal in high school, even if he wasn’t able to experience what he was like in the perspective of the student. It made Ian’s job ten times easier.

Mr. Sawyer sighed again, taking a couple of steps closer to Ian’s desk and sitting on the edge, twisting his body around a bit to look down at Ian. “I just,” he began, “I just wish some of my other employees had the same enthusiasm you do. Different generations, I suppose, right?”

Ian shrugged, keeping focus on Matthew Pike’s worksheet placed in front of him. His handwriting looked a little funky, but it wasn’t anything Ian couldn’t handle.

“Our students would really benefit from a fine, young educator with the will to help others succeed.”

Something seemed completely off. The principal was now talking a little slower, and – God, Ian’s forehead started to itch a bit from the strands of hair swaying in front of him. Was that Sawyer’s breath near Ian’s forehead? How close was he anyway?

The moment Ian gazed up, he and Mr. Sawyer were face to face. Literally. There had to be an inch of free space separating the two of them. As confused about this as Ian was, he could detect some desperation in Sawyer’s eyes somehow. His amber eyes were focused on Ian’s green ones, like he was trying to find the Milky Way inside of them.

Ian didn’t like this. He suddenly didn’t feel comfortable.

He didn’t even have a chance to speak before Sawyer’s face closed in some more on his, eventually connecting both of their lips together.

Mr. Sawyer was kissing him. He was actually fucking kissing him. What right did he even have to do that? Ian was married to someone else, and he and Sawyer worked together. This had to be illegal somewhere.

“What are you doing?” Ian asked him, pushing him away from his personal space and scooting back in the wheelie chair he was sitting in. His heart was beating rapidly, frightened by the contact. Ian remembered what happened back then when he cheated on Mickey. Those were the worst moments of Ian’s life, and he didn’t want a repeat of that.

Today felt very much like a repeat, and this time, it wasn’t the bipolar doing the talking. Ian knew better than to cheat on Mickey, and this guy seemed to have lost his mind.

Sawyer began to frown, shaking his head at the redhead. “Mr. Gallagher, my apologies for –“

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Ian asked with a frown on his face, his fists balling up at his sides. “I’m married.”

“I – I wasn’t aware –“ Sawyer watched as Ian ran his hands over his face and sit his elbows on his lap. “Mr. Gallagher, I am so sorry. Please, just – just forgive me. That – that was really insensitive of me.”

Ian couldn’t take it anymore. He had the need to throw up, and he was pretty certain that Mickey would beat someone’s face in the moment he heard about all of this. There were still tons of papers to grade, but Ian didn’t care. He just needed to be out of this classroom, out of this _school_.

So he scrambled around to get the papers off his desk and place them in the folders in his briefcase. Mr.  Sawyer’s shoulders slumped as he watched Ian pack up. “I – I haven’t told anyone before, but um…I went through a divorce a few years ago after, well…after I came out to my wife. She didn’t take it well, and it’s been biting me in the ass since –“

Ian slammed the wheelie chair into the desk, his nostrils flared at the man ahead of him. “I didn’t take this job to satisfy your sexual needs,” he barked. “I took this job because I care about the wants and needs of kids who were just like me in high school. I wanted to help them find purpose like I did.”

“Mr. Gallagher –“

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Ian interrupted, pointing an accusatory finger at the principal, who immediately shut his mouth the moment Ian spoke. “So much for that professional get-up you have going for you. It’s not going to work. I’m happily married with the love of my life, and there’s not shit you can do about it. You chose to be the pathetic bastard you are, trying to break us up. It’s not going to happen, you hear me? Go find someone else to be your fucking chew toy.”

Finally, Ian picked the briefcase up off the desk, closing it shut and taking it with him out of the room, leaving Mr. Sawyer to stand there in the front of the room. The principal adjusted the glasses sitting on his face for a moment, and his eyes immediately focused on something that was sitting on his desk.

A tiny picture frame. A tiny picture frame with Ian and Mickey’s photo inside.

Sawyer held it in between his fingers, frowning at the smiles spread on Ian and Mickey’s faces. His stomach started doing somersaults and he didn’t like one moment of it.

That was when he flipped the frame until it was facing down on the surface. When his fingers removed themselves from the edge, his hand balled up in a fist on top of Ian Gallagher’s desk. He had one thing stuck on his mind. _I’m happily married with the love of my life, and there’s not shit you can do about it_.

 _That’s where you’re wrong_ , Sawyer thought to himself as he turned around to exit the classroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer to type out than I expected. This is what happens when you have writer's block, even on one of your free days for writing fanfiction. -.-
> 
> I'm not sure how I want the rest of the story just yet in terms of specifics, but three or four chapters should be enough for me to have as much content as I want to include. I'm kinda using the premise of Fatal Attraction and Obsessed (Idris Elba and Beyonce) for inspiration, so think of those two (if you seen either one of them) if you wanna know how the rest of this story will somewhat end up being like. Also, I'm not sure if there's actually rape in this story (I don't want there to be, but again, I don't have specifics set in stone), but there is a lot of non-consensual stuff, if that tag I had listed above previously made any sense.
> 
> If you want to chat with me, my [ask box](http://promqueen-and-hairgel.tumblr.com/ask) is open, and of course, happy reading. <3


	2. First Comes the Test

Mr. Sawyer lied. He most definitely knew that Ian had a husband.

Once the school administration had received the documentations on each potential candidate, Mr. Sawyer was to look through each file and see if each applicant rose to his expectations. He had specific criteria for the available positions: hard-working, talented, people-oriented, intelligent, able to lead by example, enthusiastic about working.

And then there were the expectations Mr. Sawyer chose not to directly enforce but decided to use to his own advantage. In other words, good-looking and willing to pin him down to the ground and teach him a lesson or two.

Ian Gallagher fit most of the things on his wishlist. Attractive, willing to help students learn, people-oriented, intelligent…

But not _single_.

Mr. Sawyer had morals, although it didn’t seem that way to those who really knew him. Kissing, fucking, going after married men went against his morals. They have for years. People who were in a committed relationship and happy together belonged together, and he had not right to step in the middle of that.

Lately, though, he’s been lonely and desperate. The more he attempted to stick with his morals, the less patient he got over time. Every man in the world seemed to be either in a relationship, single, not interested, or not gay. Or maybe a mixture of two of the four possibilities. He was nearing his forties and not looking any younger. As if his eyesight was bad enough, he now started seeing wrinkles on his forehead and feeling his back crack one time or another.

That’s when his morals became bullshit to him. He was a very impatient man, and the last thing he wanted to do was to wait for his knight in shining armor. He had to take the reins, for once.

Mr. Sawyer was in his office the day Ian stormed out of the classroom, eyeing Ian’s file attentively. There were many note-worthy details that didn’t just involve Ian’s physical appearance. Other things like his membership in the ROTC and his medical history appeared to be very significant. Right next to the question that asked about health problems, Mr. Sawyer’s eyebrows rose at the mention of Ian’s diagnosis.

 _Bipolar one. Acute mania w/psychotic features_.

This piece of information had to take a moment to settle into Mr. Sawyer’s system, but it wasn’t something that he couldn’t handle. People with bipolar disorder weren’t problems to him at all. They weren’t years before this point, and they certainly weren’t now. He could take a hold of Ian with whatever force the amateur wanted to place on him. After all, Mr. Sawyer is the high school principal with lots of power at his fingertips.

The man glanced down at Ian’s file for a couple more moments, frowning a bit when he spotted the check box where Ian marked that he was married, followed by Mickey’s name and contact information. He’s only seen Mickey once before – back when report cards were being picked up – but that was all Mr.  Sawyer need, including the photograph on Ian’s desk in his classroom, to know who his match was.

“Mr. Sawyer.” Miss Alexander poked her head through the entrance of his office and knocked on the wall to signal her arrival. “You have a couple of parents willing to see you.”

The principal nodded before his assistant left, leaving him to place Ian’s file in a safe spot in his own desk and closing it shut before leaving the room completely. He sure did speak with a lot of adults in his position, but the only one he had on his mind was a cute, naïve little redhead he couldn’t wait to get his hands back on.

* * *

“Ian?” Yevgeny called to him from the back seat. Strangely enough, he called Ian by his first name despite the fact that Ian and Mickey were married to each other. Calling them both Dad started to rub off on him and got completely confusing. Mickey, on occasion, has also told Yevgeny not to call him Daddy since the term of endearment makes him feel uncomfortable.

Yevgeny thought the same way when he referred to Ian.

The redhead in question didn’t respond to his stepson right away. His hands were tight on the wheel, trying to maintain focus on the road.

He couldn’t focus, though. After the encounter he had with the principal, he wanted to throw up so badly. The taste of Mr. Sawyer’s lips were still on Ian’s lips despite the fact that he drank nearly a whole gallon of water prior to leaving the institution. The feel of Mr. Sawyer’s fingers were still on Ian’s face, although he’s stood in the men’s bathroom for what felt like a century, rubbing the touch away. The dread remained in Ian’s head the longer he thought about that man even having contact that close with Mr. Sawyer.

The dread of knowing that Mickey would eventually find out about all of this pained Ian the most. He wasn’t ready to tell him, but he knew he had to do something about all of this before it got out of hand.

“Ian?” Yevgeny tried a little louder, realizing that the redhead had zoned out.

Ian shook himself out of his own trance and glanced up at the rear view mirror at Yevgeny. “Oh, shit. Sorry, bud,” he told the boy in the back seat. “What were you saying?”

Yevgeny frowned at Ian from where he sat, sensing concern hidden in Ian’s face. “Something wrong?”

However, Ian couldn’t seem himself explaining it to Yevgeny. He’s only fourteen years old and wouldn’t understand the concept of his stepfather getting in any type of affair with his high school principal. Yevgeny’s a bright child, Ian knew that for sure; the situation itself, though, felt like it would be a lot for a teenager like Yevgeny to grasp.

“Nah, little man,” Ian replied, his focus on the road regained once the street light turned green. He let out a long sigh as he turned a corner a block later, fully aware that his response to the young Milkovich boy was a lie. “Everything’s fine.”

Minutes later, Ian pulled the car up along the curb in front of his and Mickey’s home. When he turned the ignition off, Yevgeny grabbed his backpack and hopped out of the car, running to the front door and knocking on it furiously.

Ian climbed out of the car and locked it as he made his way to the front porch. “Hold on, bud. Your dad still has a few hours left of work.” Yevgeny, in addition to being bright and smart, was also impatient, like the many teenagers he’s seen in his English classes.

That wasn’t something Ian couldn’t handle, though. Like he always told himself before, he was once that kid. He was, Mickey was, his siblings were – a lot of adults were back in the day.

 _God, I sound like a grandpa right now_ , the redhead thought to himself.

Once the door was unlocked, Yevgeny darted in the house and ran up to his room. Ian stepped inside and placed his briefcase on the floor by the coat rack. “Hey, Yev,” Ian called, listening to the sounds of Yevgeny stomping his feet on the stairs, “I’m gonna cook dinner in a little while. Let me know what you want to eat!”

The teenage boy didn’t have a chance to hear him, because by the time he made it to his room, the door had shut closed. Being ignored by the young Milkovich boy was something Ian had to get used to, but it could get worse.

With free time to himself, Ian decided to walk up to the master bedroom, find some comfortable clothes, and get changed. The filth from the kiss Mr. Sawyer gave him earlier bothered him still, so before getting completely changed, he elected to take a shower and wash his face.

Ian’s stomach was burning before stepping in the shower under the hot spray. Now that the hot water touched every inch of his skin, his stomach didn’t feel half as bad anymore.

Still, he felt completely uncomfortable about the situation at hand. He had gotten kissed by his stepson’s principal – his own _boss_ , for that matter. It was wrong on all levels, and he hated himself every moment the kiss replayed in his head. Ian was in a wonderful relationship with Mickey already, and when he was able to set himself straight, he didn’t want to fuck it up all over again.

The steam from the hot water began to suffocate him the longer he stood underneath it. He didn’t mind the water itself, but just being trapped in a small space with so much heat rising in the room, and the combination of that and Mr. Sawyer invading his own personal space, made Ian feel claustrophobic. A few minutes longer, and Ian was out of the shower in all of his naked glory. He took the white towel from the rack and dried off his entire body before throwing on some sweats and a plain, emerald green T-Shirt.

The mirror above the sink was foggy from the shower steam, and when Ian wiped the condensation away, his face came into view. Even after a relaxing shower, he still looked and felt like shit. He was guilty for allowing something like this to happen. He hated feeling guilty, too, especially for an incident he didn’t cause. Mr. Sawyer did this to him. He was the one with the intentions to ruin his and Mickey’s relationship, not Ian.

Ian took his orange toothbrush from the little container on the corner of the sink and got the brush part wet underneath the cold water. He took some of the Colgate toothpaste and spread some on the brush before putting it in his mouth, trying to clean his mouth as much as possible. Mr. Sawyer’s DNA was still on him somewhere, and he wanted it all gone before Mickey made it home from work.

Four teeth brushes and three face washes later, and Ian was completely satisfied with his cleanliness. He threw on some clean, white socks and his brown slippers seconds later, and when he finished in the bathroom, he left his and Mickey’s bathroom and master bedroom to head towards Yevgeny’s bedroom. He had some loud music playing on the other side of the door, which grew to be a habit, according to Mickey.

“Yev!” Ian shouted, attempting to get his attention. A couple of bangs on the door later, and the fourteen-year-old opened the door, giving Ian his undivided attention. “I’m preparing supper. You want anything?”

The brunet shrugged. “Lasagna?”

“Good,” Ian declared. He started to turn on the balls of his feet towards the stairs before whirling back around and asking, “you finishing your homework in there?”

“Don’t have any.”

“Yev?” Ian asked, quirking an knowing eyebrow. He could tell the teen was lying his ass off judging by the moan that escaped his lips. “I want at least half of it done before we eat. Okay, bud?”

“Yes sir.” The _sir_ part was a little low, but Ian most definitely heard it. Ian’s heart would beat a few times by that. Yev may have been born a Milkovich – a title his father wasn’t too proud of himself – but he was so much more and so much better, just like Mickey.

The bedroom door closed again, and Ian trotted down the steps, headed to the kitchen to get started on the food.

* * *

Hours after leaving work to join his family, Mickey had taken a shower and gotten himself prepared for bed. Being a car salesman was fucking exhausting for no reason, though it did have its benefits. He didn’t have the job for that long yet, but he was able to make enough money to move out of his old home and move into a new one with Ian and Yevgeny. His little family was able to afford more with the salary Mickey made – more medicine for Ian, healthcare for all three residents, Yevgeny’s college fund, and so much more.

The downside to it all was the fact that Mickey had to pitch sales to a bunch of people whom he wasn’t certain would purchase any of the cars the company had on display. Turner and Turner Motors wasn’t one of the biggest car dealerships in the United States, so a lot of people didn’t come to them for new cars like they did for Hyundai or GMC, but a respectable amount didn’t leave empty-handed, either. Mickey, as well as all of his employees, put their heart and soul into their pitches only for some of their customers to turn them down, no matter the reason.

It was bullshit, for the most part, but every pitch was worth it. Ian, Mickey, and Yevgeny wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Mickey’s job, and he could go further than this. That was all the motivation he needed to continue.

The raven-haired man fell onto the mattress after leaving his and Ian’s bathroom to get dressed. His face hit the pillow instantly, earning a moan out of the man that caused Ian to giggle beside him. “Long day?”

“Fuckin’ wore me out, man,” Mickey complained into the pillow, savoring the comfort of his and Ian’s bed for a few seconds longer.

“And I thought my job was bad,” Ian joked, turning back to the novel in his hands with the multicolored sticky notes attached to the pages. Some of his classes finished their previous books before others did, and he wanted to catch up on his reading to prepare for the next class assignment.

Mickey laughed. “I think we both have it rough,” he agreed, and Ian nodded before turning the next page. The room was silent between the two of them for only a few seconds as Mickey gathered his composure once more and sat on his knees, eyeing his husband with a smirk. “Speaking of rough,” he purred, crawling a little closer to Ian and pressing a kiss to his cheek. He grinned as he noticed the bit of blush appear on Ian’s cheeks.

“W-What are you doing?” Ian stuttered.

“Come on, man,” Mickey spoke seductively, adding more kisses to Ian’s skin. “Gotta loosen up.” He added one warm, wet kiss to Ian’s neck. “We earned it, didn’t we?” A couple more kisses, and Mickey was no longer speaking, wanting to devour Ian instead. However, the redhead had other plans.

When Ian moved away from Mickey, the latter frowned in confusion. “What’s goin’ on, man?”

“I…” Ian started, and then he took a long breath. “I have to tell you something, actually. Something that happened at work today.”

Mickey’s eyebrows inched on his forehead a bit. “Okay,” he responded, the statement sounding more like a question, “what is it?”

Ian was so scared; he didn’t even want to look Mickey in the eye. Mickey did everything he could to get their relationship back on track, to get Ian a new job, to move the two of them and Yevgeny into this house. They had everything they wanted and possibly more, and the last thing Ian wanted to do was fuck it up over some kiss that meant nothing to him.

However, Ian and Mickey’s relationship was also built on trust and empathy. Mickey has gotten closer to Ian the older the both of them got, and while it took a while for the Milkovich to open up, he gradually did, regardless. Ian had no problem telling Mickey things before, but this was something more sensitive. How could one tell their husband that they got kissed on the mouth by their own boss?

Ian couldn’t do it now. Not tonight. He will eventually. Deep down, he vowed to eventually tell Mickey what happened. Right now, he’s a little too worried to let his husband down.

“I love you.” Ian found himself saying instead.

Mickey got a little suspicious about that statement – not because of the idea that Ian loves him, but because of the idea that Ian had something lodged in the back of his mind that he wasn’t telling Mickey. Either way, his statement encouraged Mickey to swing a leg over Ian’s lap so he was facing the redhead, putting both hands on his face and guiding Ian’s eyes up towards his. “Hey,” Mickey spoke softly, “I love you, too.”

Ian allowed Mickey to kiss him passionately on the lips, and he reciprocated. If this would be the last good night they both had, so be it. All he needed now was to be brought back to Earth, and Mickey was doing simply just that.

* * *

Four days later, Mickey definitely noticed something off. Ian had gone crazy with the notebook paper in the house. Actually, that was an understatement; there had to have been about seventy balls of used notebook paper scattered all around the living room floor. Not even Yevgeny made this much of a mess.

“Ian?” Mickey called to his husband, who was spread out on the living room couch with his notebook in one hand and his pen and cell phone in the other. “Ian, what the fuck is all of this?” Mickey tried again, picking up some of the balls off the ground.

He was immediately shushed as Ian went back to work. Mickey groaned. “Could you at least get a fucking trash bin or some shit?”

“Mick, I’m trying to concentrate. The kids have a test coming up.”

Mickey scoffed. “You look like the one taking the fucking test,” he replied. “How many trees did you fucking kill in here anyway?”

“It’s supposed to be thirty questions, front and back,” Ian explained, writing a note down somewhere near the margin, “but I can’t seem to…get the right questions down –“ He realized he made another mistake and ripped the paper out of the notebook, balling it up and tossing it angrily on the floor. “Fuck!”

“We have a fucking trash bin, regardless,” Mickey scolded, grabbing the ball of paper Ian just threw against the coffee table. By now, he had about twenty paper balls in his arms and made his way to the kitchen to throw them away.

Once all of the paper was in the trash bag, Mickey sighed and ran a hand over his face. Ian was struggling with something. While Mickey may not know what it exactly is, he does know that he doesn’t look like the stable Ian Mickey’s gotten accustomed to over the years. He needed to take his medicine.

“Yo, Ian,” Mickey called, walking back into the living room. He bit down on his bottom lip as he watched Ian scratch at the top of his head repetitively, wanting to get something else down on paper but unable to get the words back to the tip of his tongue. “Ay,” Mickey tried again, rubbing his shoulder a bit. “Did you take your meds?”

“I will. I just…”

“Ian, you need to take your meds.”

“Not now, Mickey.”

“Well, when then?” the older man asked, a little impatient.

“Once I have everything I need.” Mickey wanted to tell him that the one thing Ian needed was to stabilize himself before he got out of control, but he decided against that in favor of going over to Ian’s briefcase by the front door. Ian seemed to have everything he needed for the day – graded papers, fresh pencils, notes from the novels he’s read –

But where the hell were his meds?

“Mick, what are you going through my shit for?” Mickey heard Ian say behind him.

“You don’t have your fucking meds in here, do you?"

“Mick, I told you I’ll take them later; I’m fine.”

The shorter man stood up from his squatted position and turned back around towards his husband. “Look,” he tried as calmly as he could, “you’re not yourself when you’re like this, Ian, and all I want to do is help you –“

“Can you help me work on these fucking test questions then?”

“Ian –“

“Then how are you helping me?”

Mickey sighed, trying to keep himself together. Ian was stubborn at times, but a lot of times, Mickey accepted that trait about him. During these times where a situation would really affect his own health, however, he needed Ian to cooperate with him just once.

“I’m gonna go get you another prescription when I get back from work,” Mickey said, trying to stay calm once again, “but – hear me out on this – I think you should take a rain check so I can –“

Ian frowned at Mickey, knowing exactly what he was implying. “You…you want me to stop working at my job?”

“That’s not what I meant at all –“

“Mick, they love me. The other teachers, the students, the administration – they all love me. I’m doing so well already. This was the one thing we were working towards, and you want me to quit?”

Mickey wished, for a minute, that Ian would sit still and listen to the words coming out of his husband’s mouth. The way this conversation is going, though, the odds definitely weren’t in Mickey’s favor.

“No, Ian, I want you to keep your job,” Mickey explained. “I know how much this means to you, teaching all of these kids and whatever the fuck. My point is that you’re clearly not taking your meds for whatever reason, and you’re not stable enough to put so much weight on your shoulders. What I’m suggesting is that you take a day off until we can get you some more medicine to calm you down.”

Ian frowned at him – slowly, but he most definitely frowned at him. “So you’re saying I’m not stable enough to do my own job?”

“You’re not understanding me –“

“If you can do your job, Mick, I can do mine,” the redhead interrupted, placing a palm against his own chest. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re not my goddamn boss.”

“I’m not trying to be your goddamn boss; I’m trying to be your goddamn husband.”

Ian scoffed, getting up off the couch and gathering his things. “Good,” he stated. He clearly hadn’t focused on what he was saying, because the next few words slipped out before he could even think about them. “My boss can do a better job than you anyway.”

It was Mickey’s turn to frown. Ian’s previous statement was pretty low, but Mickey also had good ears – almost too good. “The fuck did you just say?”

There was dead silence moments before Ian rubbed his hand over his face, clearly stressed out. He had been up all night working on this damn test that wasn’t getting done anytime soon, and he couldn’t even hear himself think anymore. “Nothing,” the redhead answered. “I’m gonna get dressed for work.”

Mickey’s reaction to Ian’s slip went away the moment Ian stormed up the stairs. “Ian!” he called to him, but Ian didn’t listen. He had slammed the door before Mickey could even call again.

Three seconds later, Mickey was pacing back and forth between the bottom of the stairs and the back of the living room couch before he found himself kicking the wall in frustration. He took a moment to compose himself once again, and when he turned around, he spotted Yevgeny standing there in front of him with a frown on his own face.

“Are you okay, Dad?” he asked the older Milkovich. He had witnessed the entire fight between Ian and Mickey from the stairs and maneuvered from there to the kitchen before Ian marched his way to the master bedroom.

Mickey sighed at his son. He remembered the times when he and Yevgeny’s mother Svetlana got into arguments with each other that led to their divorce. A part of him wished he could take some of that back, especially knowing that Yevgeny’s mother no longer lived in Chicago after an encounter with a family member from out of the country. The boy was only fourteen and experiencing a bunch of arguments between adults at a young age. He didn’t deserve seeing this one between Ian and Mickey, either.

“I’m fine, man,” Mickey confessed, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. “Just…” He breathed in and let out a shaky exhale before he added, “just get ready for school, alright? I might have to take you there.”

“What about Ian?”

“I…” Mickey paused, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb. He considered telling Yevgeny about Ian’s lack of medication within the past couple of days, but the two adults were already struggling to keep themselves together. Mickey didn’t want the same thing for his son. “Don’t worry about it. Just – let me take you down to school. It’ll be fine.”

Lucky for Mickey, Yevgeny didn’t ask anymore questions. He went into the kitchen to grab a yogurt packet to go, and Mickey headed upstairs to the master bedroom, letting Ian know what was happening in hopes that he wouldn’t flip the hell out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writer's block with a passion, and I wish it never existed, smh.
> 
> Depending on how things go, I might have to add a fifth chapter to this, but that is undetermined. Anyways, I hope everyone liked this chapter. Let me know what you think, and [hit me up](http://promqueen-and-hairgel.tumblr.com/ask) if you'd like to chat about anything. Happy reading. <3


	3. Second Comes the Lesson

Ian didn’t like it when he and Mickey fought over things with each other. They always wanted to have the upper hand in something. Yevgeny gets bullied at school? Then there’s an argument about their parenting skills or whether or not the bullies in question needed a kick to the jaw when either Ian or Mickey saw them. Usually, it’s the latter coming to that conclusion.

Still, Ian wanted the two of them to both have the upper hand. They were married and grasped a full understanding of each other. At the end of the day, they both worked together to figure out what’s in their best interests, as well as Yevgeny’s.

Today, however, Ian felt as though Mickey has been taking the upper hand every chance he got. Why, even when Ian told Mickey that he could take Yevgeny to class on his way to work, Mickey argued against it, saying how worried he is of his husband if something were to go wrong in his classroom.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, Ian could no longer find the keys to his car. He knew his husband was only looking out for him and considering his best interests in terms of his mental health, but for God’s sakes, Ian still had a job at the school to take care of, and he wasn’t going to let a mental illness ruin that. He could survive one more day without his meds, and maybe then he’ll take that rain check Mickey was talking about. Right now, he had some students to teach.

Even if he’ll be late getting to the school to do so.

Ian had taken his briefcase with him to the public bus. He hadn’t rode the CTA in years, especially since Mickey’s job as a car salesman earned them the opportunity to get whatever beauty from the shop that they wanted.

Ian seriously wished he had his car keys now, though, because every moment he glanced up at the digital marquee at the front of the bus, the time would always change.

 _Seven fifty-one_. _Seven fifty-two_. _Seven fifty-three_.

Everything today was in a bundled-up mess. Not even Ian’s tests are in order, and he was supposed to assign them today. He might as well have to do that another business day now and find something else for the students to do.

About a couple minutes later, Ian hopped off the bus and walked over to the entrance of the school. He had about a minute and twenty seconds before the bell rang throughout the school. Anxiety started to build up in his chest. The kids won’t have a test today, and he was almost late to his own class. He felt like a shit teacher now and wished with all his heart that he could take it all back.

He quickly made his way into the classroom seconds before the bell rang, followed by a curly-haired teen with a green hoodie – _Charles Steinberg_ , Ian remembers. The guy is always fifteen minutes late for some reason, unless it’s for tests and exams. Little does Charles know that he won’t even have to take anything today, thanks to his teacher’s unprepared morning.

“Okay, so…guys,” Ian started off timidly, looking around the room at the thirty pairs of eyes on him.

This was so embarrassing. These kids were meant to look to their teachers for tips to succeed in the real world, and Ian was setting a terrible example. Some of these students don’t even care about their education – Ian’s been in a classroom with people like them before – but they needed someone to help them before it’s too late. His eldest sister barely got her GED, and Ian wanted better for his students.

“I…I was going to assign an English test today,” Ian continued, folding his hands together, “but some problems came up. Until I have everything under control, there won’t be a test today.” A few students sighed in relief, and Ian got the hint that those few barely studied themselves.

He opened the briefcase that he placed on his desk and started scrambling around for his agenda for the day. However, it seemed as though he couldn’t find that, either. Did he put it in a separate folder? Did he forget to print it out last night? Did he ball it up with the other fifty sheets of paper he left in the living room? Did he just forget it altogether?

Slight murmurs were being heard throughout the classroom, and some students were side-eyeing Ian while he checked his briefcase for his agenda. After a good five minutes, the issue still wasn’t resolved.

“Mr. Gallagher?” Ian heard a girl’s voice near the front of the room. When he looked up, Amanda Kelsey had her hand raised. “Do you want us to turn in those drafts to you?”

Shit. They also had a draft essay to work on for homework.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Ian responded, his eyes falling back to the inside of his briefcase for a second. “Uh…everyone put your drafts on my desk until I get my stuff in order.”

All of the students in the room started going through their bags for their papers, all grabbing something to turn into their teacher. Meanwhile, their teacher was having a hard time to deliver to his own students. The inside of his briefcase was a giant mess, and he had no tests and no agenda in his possession.

He was as good as fired.

* * *

Mickey came back home from the school after dropping Yevgeny off. He and his son were both unaware that Ian had taken the trip to school on his own. It wasn’t until Mickey unlocked the house door and entered through the living room that he knew something was wrong.

The house was dangerously quiet, and Mickey is well aware that Ian couldn’t be sleeping right now, though the guy pretty much stayed up the entire night working on a damn test.

“Ian?” Mickey called throughout the house. No answer. “Ian!”

Mickey walked past more balls of paper on the floor until he climbed up the stairs to his and Ian’s bedroom. He expected to see Ian lying there on his bed or something, sneaking in a bit of rest after the all-nighter he pulled just to get some work done.

However, the room, just like the rest of the house, was completely empty.

“Fuck,” Mickey muttered under his breath, darting out of the bedroom to check the other rooms of the house just in case. Nope. Ian was as good as gone.

Internally panicking, Mickey pulled out his cell phone and dialed Ian’s number, waiting for the other line to pick up.

All of a sudden, he heard a ringtone from inside the master bedroom. Mickey glanced in for a second and noticed something light up on the nightstand.

Ian had left his phone at home. “Shit.”

That’s when Mickey went to Yevgeny’s number. He had given the boy a phone before the school year started in the event that any one of the three were having an emergency. This was one of those times.

“Yev? Yev?” Again, the call went straight to voicemail. So Mickey opted to text his son instead: _go find Ian and tell him to come to the door. I’m picking him up_.

After the message was sent, Mickey ran back downstairs and out the door, adrenaline rushing through his veins. He could only imagine what an un-medicated Ian was doing right now.

* * *

Everyone in the classroom watched Ian with furrowed eyebrows as he scattered around the front of the room for a bit to find something for them to do. He had no agenda, no tests, and he had no idea what he wanted to do with the notes in his book. He was thankful he had them, though, or else he would have nothing to fall back on.

“Okay, so for today…” Ian said aloud, flipping through pages of his copy of the book. He hasn’t felt this nervous in a long time. The last time he could remember being this nervous and frantic was when he had his bipolar episode as a teen. If there were anymore moments after that, he wasn’t sure. “Everyone get into groups of three…and…”

His heart had to be in his throat by now. He wasn’t organized or prepared, and everyone around him had been waiting for the past fifteen minutes. “Find some scenes from the book…that capture the main themes.” That was better than nothing.

“Do you want us to write them down?” Amanda asked.

“Yes,” Ian answered, smoothing his hair back. “Yeah, write your scenes down, and then – also, out of the scenes you choose, pick which one is the most important to you.”

 _That should do it_ , Ian thought to himself, calming himself down from his internal panic attack.

Once Ian set the book down, he clapped his hands together and properly addressed the students. “Alright, let’s do it.”

He stood there and watched all of the students rearrange themselves across the room, either trying to meet up with their close friends in the room or finding the closest person they could get to.

Well, not all of them. Charles and one other male student – Nathan Grey – were just on their phones and not even acknowledging Ian’s orders.

Ian hated those types of students who sat in the back of the room with their phones in their hands like there wasn’t an adult in the room. Here he was, trying to make things right after the crazy morning he had, and the kids in the back rows don’t even want to pay him any kind of attention.

“Charles, Nathan! Groups!” Ian called from the front of the room.

The curly-haired teen glanced up at the teacher and chuckled. “You finally have your shit together now?”

Ian didn’t like it when his students were disrespectful to him, and that rarely happened since he got the job. Sure, he was first seen as a newbie here at Graham High, but he slowly adjusted to the lifestyle within this institution.

Every other person in the room was either silent or whispering among their friends about Charles’s response. Ian’s eyes were frozen on Charles, anger boiling up in his chest. “You talking back to me in my classroom, Steinberg?”

Charles shrugged. “I might be, and you might be the son of Satan, too. Your hair makes it a little easier to tell.”

Laughs were being heard on different ends of the room, and Nathan and Charles shared a high five with some confidence. Ian wasn’t happy, though. If anything, he was tired, furious, and stressed the fuck out. He didn’t ask for this from his own students today, not on a day like this.

“I’m sending you to the principal’s office.”

Charles’s smile fell from his face, a frown taking its place. “The fuck are you talking about –“

“Hey! What did I say about talking back in my classroom?”

“What, you forget what that was, too? It’s no wonder you’re a little too preoccupied with that briefcase over there.”

More laughs escaped the students around them. It used to be so simple for Ian to come up with some smart comeback at a time like this; however, with his mental instability and lack of sleep, he can’t seem to do anything right anymore.

Shaking his head, which slowly filled with fury by the second, Ian closed his briefcase and set it behind the desk. “I want you to go to the principal’s office.”

“You can’t make me do that.”

“As a matter of fact, I can. I’m your teacher.”

“You sure as hell don’t act like it.”

Ian was done with this kid. It’s hasn’t even been an hour yet, and Ian already wants to slam the guy in his face. He knew his place in the school, though, and decided that hitting a student wasn’t the best way to solve his problems. So instead, Ian stormed to the back of the classroom, getting at eye level with Charles. “Up. Principal’s office. Now.”

Charles – that slick son of a bitch – gave Ian a smirk and crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you gonna do to make me, noob?”

All of a sudden, Ian yanked the student out of his seat, his arm tight around Charles’s bicep. He started to squirm a bit as Ian literally dragged him to the front door. “What the fuck, man?”

“I said, let’s move.” Ian didn’t even pay attention to the hollering students inside the classroom. Right now, his main focus was to get this guy the discipline he needed before Ian completely loses it in front of his other students.

Not even two minutes later, Ian heard a familiar voice down the hall behind him. “Ian!”

Yevgeny was out of his classroom.

“What did I say about calling me by my first name in school, Yev? And what’s going on?” Ian asked, turning around and meeting the teen’s gaze.

“Dad wants you to meet him at the front door.”

Charles chuckled. “The fuck happened? He got a complaint about poor quality in the classroom or some shit?”

Ian was seeing red all over the place. This kid didn’t know when to shut the hell up, did he? Ian’s system was going full-on primal at this point. He was in a building with administrators who gave him the rules on how to handle things around here, and he was to follow their orders. However, the combination of this morning’s struggle and this kid right here, Ian was gonna lose it.

“You have one more time before I –“

“The fuck are you gonna do to me that you’re already not doing?”

That’s when Ian had enough. Ian grabbed the kid by the collar of his shirt and dragged him until his back hit a set of lockers. He threw in the first couple of punches, taking as much anger out on him as possible. As soon as possible, Yevgeny ran in their direction, attempting to pull Ian away.

“Wait, stop!” Yevgeny shouted, only to get shoved away in favor of a couple more punches to Charles’s face.

Ian pulled Charles away from the set of lockers and pushed him to the ground so he could start kicking him a few times. Charles was down there, crying his ass off like he’s some innocent little saint. Ian wanted to make sure that shit-eating grin never appeared on his face again when he encountered his English teacher. His attitude was fucking disgusting, and Ian wanted Charles to remember that the next time he wanted to run his smart ass mouth.

“Hey! Hey!” A couple of shouts came from the side of the hallway Ian and Charles were headed. Mr. Sawyer ran and pulled Ian away from the commotion as best as he could, sparing Charles from suffering another kick to the groin.

“Fucking bastard!” Ian shouted, struggling to release himself from Mr. Sawyer’s grasp. It was no use. He was a very strong man.

Other people were coming out of their classrooms to witness the fight. Their mouths gaped at the furious man in Mr. Sawyer’s arms. This was all too embarrassing for Ian. Nothing in his life seemed to be working out for him today. “Come on. Come on. Hey!” Mr. Sawyer whispered into Ian’s ear, dragging the younger man away and taking him to the stairway.

* * *

Tears were forming at the corners of Ian’s eyes. The principal was probably going to fire him for starting an argument in the classroom while everyone else was trying to learn. Yevgeny was probably going to stay pissed at him for shoving him out of the way in favor of causing trouble. Mickey was probably going to punch him in the throat until his windpipe is permanently out.

And boy, he did not want to upset Mickey.

“Mr. Gallagher,” Mr. Sawyer tried whispering into Ian’s ear again as the younger man kept fuming below him.

Ian couldn’t take it anymore. Tears started to fall down his cheeks. When Mr. Sawyer felt his despair vibrating throughout his body, he held his arms a little tighter around Ian as he brought the both of them into his office, excusing the other school staff around them.

“Hey,” Mr. Sawyer whispered once again, settling the redhead down to the ground once the door was closed behind them. “Ian, what’s wrong?” He knew it was unprofessional to call his staff members by their first names, especially in front of other students, but they were alone in his office now. They didn’t have to worry about that much.

Ian rocked a little back and forth, almost hitting his head against the wood of the door before Mr. Sawyer placed a hand there. He didn’t like feeling like this. His bipolar disorder, mixed in with the shit storm that happened today, made him feel incredibly weak. There were days when Mickey told him he wasn’t as weak as he actually thought he was, but that didn’t mean Ian didn’t go back to doubting himself.

The redhead’s chest went up and back down repetitively as Ian tried to gather some composure. It wasn’t easy when about an eighth of the school noticed how much of a cry baby he was. “It’s all my fucking fault.”

“What is? What do you mean?”

“I made a fucking fool of myself out there! I felt so fucking worthless!” It was that moment when Mickey’s voice didn’t make it to his ear drums anymore like he wanted them to. “They’re gonna take me to the psych ward again. I just know it.”

Mr. Sawyer frowned, gazing down at Ian’s tear-soaked face. “The psych ward?”

“Yeah,” Ian replied with a sniffle. “My family – my family had to take me there because…”

“Because why?”

Ian shook his head. “Because I fuckin’ need treatment…” Ian shook his head some more, biting down on his bottom lip in fear. “I can’t even fuckin’ take care of myself. How am I supposed to take care of other people’s kids if I can’t take care of myself?”

Mr. Sawyer shook his head as he rubbed circles on Ian’s back with his left hand. He remembered seeing this on his file. He remembered to keep note of any and all behavioral problems that occurred while Ian taught at this school.

He remembered the medicine Ian left in his desk a few days prior, back when Ian had a conference with the other teachers.

“You can take care of yourself, Ian.” The redhead lifted his eyes slowly up to Mr. Sawyer. He was still crying, but it wasn’t loud enough to prevent him from hearing what his boss had to say. “You don’t need anyone telling you what to do in order to live your life. You know that, right?” Ian didn’t respond; he was still trying to labor his breaths as much as he could.

“And you’re most definitely not worthless, either,” Mr. Sawyer continued. “You’re one of our best employees here, and this is only your first year. You should be proud of where you ended up.”

Ian shut his eyes for a moment, some more tears spilling in between the cracks. “My kid – my kid saw the whole thing.” He paused, his chin trembling a bit. “He – he’s gonna tell Mick, and…fuck – he’s gonna hate me so much.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because I was…” Ian stopped again, some uneasy breaths escaping his mouth. “Because I didn’t – I didn’t take my fucking medication like I was supposed to –“

“Like you were _supposed_ to?” The question sounded a little rhetorical, and Ian debated on answering it before Mr. Sawyer beat him to the chase. “Ian, if you really want to take control of your own life, the first thing you need to do is let go of other people who are taking control for you. You don’t deserve that kind of spirit in your presence, and you know it.”

Ian was somewhat leaning towards Mr. Sawyer’s words, but then again, that could be the lack of medication talking. He loved Mickey with all his heart, and he wants to better himself to not only make himself stable, but to make Mickey proud. They’ve been in a relationship for years, and there’s still room for growth and improvement on Ian’s end. Same on Mickey’s.

Mr. Sawyer leaned a little closer to Ian, his left arm moving to Ian’s and gripping onto it to maintain Ian’s attention. “You’re just having one, simple bad day, and that’s fine. We all have our bad days once and a while, right?” Ian was still a little shaky, but he nodded anyway. “Bad days don’t always last, now do they?”

“N-No.”

“Exactly.” Mr. Sawyer smiled at Ian, squeezing his bicep a bit, ignoring the feeling from down below he was getting at its hard touch. “Your bad day is here, and soon enough, it’ll be like a fresh, new start.”

The two men sat on the floor for a couple more minutes. Ian was getting tired by the minute, and he was still a little too embarrassed to face his own classmates. The first period of class should be over soon, though, so Ian won’t have to worry too much. “You ready to go?”

Ian gulped, recalling the series of events that led him here in the principal’s office in the first place. Charles is probably in the nurse’s office after what he did to him, the rest of his students were most likely fooling around upstairs, and Yevgeny was probably left to explain the shit storm that occurred to his own father.

God, Ian wasn’t ready to face Mickey or Yevgeny yet, either.

When Mr. Sawyer noticed the shake from Ian’s head, he nodded himself. “I can get you a cup of water, if you like. Maybe it’ll help cool you off before your next class.”

That sounded pretty satisfying to Ian. “Sure.”

Mr. Sawyer had gotten up off the floor and headed to the water station set up by the windows. He took a white cup from off the little table and filled it up to the top. As he did so, his fingers snuck into his jacket pocket, grabbing some tiny, white tablets from out of there, that fact oblivious to Ian. Once the cup was full of water, Mr. Sawyer dropped the tablets inside, letting them dissolve for a moment before walking back over to Ian.

“Here,” he told the redhead, handing him the cup. “You look so dehydrated.” Ian made an attempt to smile, but he still felt a little sad from earlier.

Ian drank all of the contents out of the cup. When he was done, he lowered the cup down to the floor by his side. Moments later, he felt himself get a little drowsy, and before he knew it, he was out like a light.

Mr. Sawyer just stood there with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He had Ian Gallagher just where he wanted him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I feel about this chapter (I've been on and off with the whole typing in the document thing because it's hot as balls over here, and I'm losing motivation for practically everything), but I think it'll set up the Mickey/Mr. Sawyers encounter nicely.
> 
> Still updating stuff on my end, so idk when I'll get back to prompts. I do want to talk to you guys more, so if you want, come chat with me on [my Tumblr](http://promqueen-and-hairgel.tumblr.com). And, as always, happy reading. <3


	4. Lesson Learned

There wasn’t a single, calm portion of Mickey’s body; every inch of him from head to toe was shaking nervously as he quickly drove his way back to the school, almost running a red light as he went. He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to see Ian. He needed to make sure he was okay and hopefully make things right again.

His car was stuck behind two others, with no way to turn so he could make this trip end a little quicker. His skin was itching at the thought of Ian having some kind of nervous breakdown or experiencing one of his bipolar lows. Memories from their childhood came rushing back – the last thing Mickey wanted in a moment like this – and Mickey had to inhale and exhale, letting out shaky breaths as the images got clearer in his mind.

Next to him in the car seat, his cell phone was buzzing with an incoming call from his son. The light was almost green, but he had to know what Yevgeny knew in order to get this situation under control.

So he reached for his phone, pressing the green call button and holding the phone up to his ear as he drove. “Yev?”

“Dad.” Yevgeny sounded a little nervous.

“Yev, where are you?”

“Ian got sent to the office. He was fighting a student from his class when I saw him in the hallway. I tried to get to him, but he pushed me out of the way. And then my teacher pulled me back in the classroom before I could make it downstairs to the principal’s office.”

“Fuck,” Mickey muttered under his breath, gripping a little harder on the steering wheel. It was worse than Mickey predicted. Ian was never the type to hit or shove Yevgeny in any way; he loved Yevgeny like he was a son to him, and it has been that way since Yevgeny was a baby.

He fucking _loves_ Yevgeny. Mickey’s always known.

Ian wasn’t calm or stable, and now he’s most likely facing the consequences for his actions. Whomever the student was that Yevgeny talked about was probably sitting somewhere with a bloody nose right now, most likely anticipating the moment he has to tell his mother and father about the fight. Mickey didn’t want that kind of confrontation, but he knew it would most likely occur.

 _Fuck_.

“Alright, uh – are you still in class?”

“I’m going to the next one.”

“Okay, I’m almost back at the school. Don’t worry, Yev. I can handle this. You go to class.”

Yevgeny sounded a bit hesitant over the phone, but when he had the guts to reply, he said, “alright. Later, Dad.”

“Later, sport,” Mickey responded, and with that, they both hung up on each other, Mickey throwing his phone back on the seat next to him as he continued to drive. His leg started to bounce a little as he made a turn around a corner onto the street where his son’s school was, but he tried with every fiber in his being to relax.

Though that was easier said than done.

Mickey successfully parked the car by the curb when he reached the school and hopped out with his phone and Ian’s in his possession, running up the stairs until he opened the double doors and into the school. He darted over to the main office, where the assistant principal was standing behind the desk.

“Hey,” Mickey spoke, trying to labor his own breaths, and Miss Alexander lifted her head and received Mickey’s attention. “Have you seen Ian? I wanted to pick him up today.”

“Mr. Gallagher should be in the back with Mr. Sawyer,” Miss Alexander answered. “Is he scheduled to sign out?”

Mickey ran a hand through his hair, impatiently wanting to get back there so he could find his husband in time to take him to the clinic. What was this lady’s deal anyway? This is an emergency. “Look here…Ashley,” Mickey replied, checking the name on her name tag attached to her suit jacket pocket, “I really don’t have time to focus on that right now. Ian might be in trouble.”

Miss Alexander nodded, not wanting to ponder Mickey on the subject any longer and, instead, pointing in the direction of Mr. Sawyer’s office. “Down that little hall to your left.” Mickey wasted no time following her directions, although his legs felt extremely heavy while doing so.

There were other ways he could have prevented Ian from going to school today. He could have given all the speeches in the world or even gave him some form of incentive. Whatever the case may be, Mickey still felt greatly terrible about the outcome of their earlier argument. Every second Mickey got closer to his husband, he had to remind himself that this isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to the both of them and that they could make it out of this situation with a lot of added effort, if they wanted to.

Mickey wants to. He wants to dedicate the rest of his life to helping himself and Ian jump over those hurdles getting in the way of their relationship. Their relationship was worth everything, and Mickey didn’t want to jeopardize that. He knew Ian didn’t want to, either, which was why he needed to get to him before some worse were to happen.

Unfortunately, he was already too late. When Mickey opened up the principal’s office door, no one remained on the other side. What’s worse was that he had no idea on where Ian or Mr. Sawyer went.

That is, until he returned outside.

* * *

Call Mr. Sawyer a sick man for drugging one of his newest employees with the intention of taking advantage of said employee, but he’s been impatient for too long, and he wanted to take matters into his own hands. He had a few minutes or so before anyone noticed Ian passed out on his floor in front of him, so he had to move as quickly as possible, if he wanted this to work.

Surprisingly, Ian is more lightweight in Mr. Sawyer’s arms than expected, so it was easier for Mr. Sawyer to migrate the younger man out of the room. With a couple of checks out his office door, he confirmed to himself that the coast was clear and began to carry the redhead towards the back exit.

Mr. Sawyer held Ian bridal style all the way to his black Cadillac parked somewhere near the middle row of the parking lot, adjusting him in his arms when necessary. He was retrieving his car keys out of his pocket when a shout startled him out of concentration.

“Hey!”

The principal hurried his movements in time, shoving Ian into the back seat and shutting the door the moment he noticed Mickey charging towards him, a panicked and furious look on his face.

“Ay, what the fuck are you doing with him? Hey!” Mickey called, getting closer and closer to the principal’s parked vehicle.

Mr. Sawyer picked up the pace, hopping into the driver’s seat and shutting the door before Mickey even had a chance to lay a hand on the car door. His plan was being royally screwed by the second, but every time those thoughts appeared in his minds, other ones followed.

 _He doesn’t deserve him. You could do better than him_.

That motivation was enough for Mr. Sawyer to dig the car key into the ignition, starting the car and pulling out of his parking space. Mickey was too busy trying to yank his door open but failed as the car ran past him and out onto the street.

Mickey started to yell, but the driver didn’t pay attention to him. He could almost kick something in this moment. The school’s principal had just taken a passed-out Ian Gallagher out of the school and sped off to God knows where. Who knows how Ian even passed out to begin with? Mickey just wanted to help save him before it’s too fucking late.

So with that, Mickey ran back to his own car, hopped inside, and quickly turned the ignition on, pulling off as fast as he could. He kept some of the license plate numbers in mind as he turned one of the corners past the school, along with the image of the actual car itself. There was a small dent in the back of it somewhere with some of the paint scratched off, so Mickey could easily indicate which car was Mr. Sawyer’s.

Mickey’s knuckles got whiter by the second as he sped up down the street, spotting the Cadillac about three blocks ahead of him already. It was going extremely fast, though, and Mickey wasn’t sure how much he could keep up for. That’s when tears started to form at the corners of his eyes, but he kept them in long enough to focus on the road ahead of him.

 _Come on, Ian. Please wake up_ , was all Mickey thought in the back of his mind. He needed to save Ian. He couldn’t let his own emotions overpower him to the point where he had to stop the car off to the side somewhere and ball his eyes out. Strength was all he had. He’s known a lot about maintaining inner strength since he was under his father’s roof, and since the day Terry found out about Mickey’s sexuality and got arrested, Mickey has felt more carefree with himself – more carefree with Ian.

But freedom comes at a price very often. The calm always came before the storm, and Mickey had to be mentally and emotionally prepared for it. He took a few inhales and exhales, gripping onto the steering wheel some more. There was no time for crying at a time like this. Ian needed him, and Mickey was going to get him.

As Mickey turned another corner, he dug into his pants pocket, occasionally looking down, his chest pumping at the idea of him getting into some kind of car accident. He wanted to save Ian, but breaking all of his bones wasn’t a part of the plan.

He bit down on his bottom lip, following the black Cadillac about a few feet ahead of him as the phone rang in his ear. Finally, he got a response.

“Daley Graham High School. You’re on the phone with Miss Ashley Alexander. How may I help you?”

“I need help. I need you to call the fuckin’ police right now.”

“Mr. Milkovich?” the assistant principal asked with a confused tone.

“No time for fucking stalling, lady. My husband’s passed out in your boss’s car, and I’m sitting here chasing his buffoon ass around town.”

“Okay, I’m on my way,” Miss Alexander responded. “Can I get your current location so I can notify the cops?”

“Uh…” Mickey started, glancing around for any kind of street sign. “We’re near fucking 98th Street…or something –“

“Okay, got it. I have some of Sawyer’s information in the main office. I’ll call the police right away and send it for you.”

Mickey let out a quick sigh of relief. That was easier than he thought it would be. Now the law would eventually pick up on the situation at hand, and maybe things would go a little more smoothly.

Or so he hopes.

“Thank you so much.”

“Anytime.” And with that, they both hung up, giving Mickey more access to keep focus on the road ahead of him, along with the gradually shrinking image of the Cadillac up ahead. The farther away it gets, the more anxiety starts building up in Mickey’s chest.

 _Come on, Ian_ , Mickey begged as he sped up a little. _Please, Ian. Just – please wake up_.

That’s when the Cadillac up ahead continued to speed a little faster than Mickey’s car, ultimately leaving his line of sight and turning a corner Mickey couldn’t spot from where he sat. A green minivan drove horizontally out of nowhere, causing Mickey to stop his own car immediately before he crashed into something.

Mickey’s throat got a little clogged up at the realization that Mr. Sawyer was getting further and further away from him the longer Mickey waited at this red light. He couldn’t catch up to him now, not from here. He could maybe turn in the direction his car went to, but where should he go from there?

He really hoped Miss Alexander had all the information she needed to track this man down – a license plate, an address, a social security number. Anything. Mickey was desperate, now more than ever.

He needed to get that man away from Ian. He needed Ian to wake the hell up. He needed Ian back in the safety of his own arms.

* * *

“9-1-1,” a dispatcher spoke to the assistant principal on the other line of her cell phone. “What’s your emergency?”

Once Miss Alexander received the phone call from her staff member’s husband about the kidnapping, she had been moving around at a frantic pace, going through file folders in both her office and Mr. Sawyer’s office, locating everything and anything that she possibly needed.

To tell the honest truth, Miss Alexander always knew there was something fishy going on in Mr. Sawyer’s life. From the moment she got hired to work at the high school, she suddenly felt somewhat weird about it. She always pegged it as some first-day jitters in the beginning, and when she was able to spend a good amount of time with the older man, she got a little more used to him. There had been so many parent-teacher conferences, school dances, homecomings, and PTA meetings between then and now, and Miss Alexander’s previous suspicions disappeared.

Until they came back to haunt her years later.

Miss Alexander loved Ian as a co-worker, and she thought he and Mickey were a great team. They kept Yevgeny on his toes in terms of school work and overall conduct, despite the fact that most of his mannerisms traced back to his father. Learning more about Ian’s personal life every passing day since he first arrived at the school, whether he gave a big speech about it or told tiny little tidbits, was a wonderful experience for Miss Alexander, and she wouldn’t take it back for a second, even if she could.

Now that she’s finding out about the idea that her boss and practically one of her favorite co-workers are both deep in trouble – Mr. Sawyer in terms of the law, and Ian in terms of his own well being – Miss Alexander didn’t know what to think. She definitely knows for sure that she’s lost any and all credibility for the older man, which was the reason why she didn’t hesitate for a second to call the police after her phone call with Mickey.

“I would like to report a kidnapping,” Miss Alexander stated over the phone. “The name’s Roderick Sawyer. Thirty-eight years old. He’s the principal at Daley Graham High School, and he just kidnapped one of his employees.”

“Can you identify the victim’s name for me, please?”

“Ian Gallagher,” Miss Alexander responded. “His husband saw them in the school parking lot before Mr. Sawyer drove away. They were on 98th the last time his husband called, and Mr. Sawyer is getting away –“

Her voice sounded a little more frantic than she had intended it to be, though she had a pretty good reason for it. Mickey depended on her for help. Maybe he called the cops after he called her, but she was the first person Mickey contacted about the situation. He trusted her more than ever. He knew what kind of person Miss Alexander was.

She knew the same about Mickey, his husband, and his son. At this point, she was his only hope, for Ian was passed out in the back seat of Mr. Sawyer’s car somewhere, and no one else knew what was happening. Graham High’s motto had always been, “ _Victory through sacrifice, victory through determination_ ,” and Miss Alexander held those words with her every passing day.

Miss Alexander was Ian and Mickey’s only hope. She couldn’t fail or give up on them. That just wasn’t an option.

“Ma’am, slow down,” the dispatcher spoke to her as loudly as she could so Miss Alexander could register her words. “We’re sending the Chicago PD on their way. Do you, by any chance, have a license plate number, a description of the vehicle and the people involved, or any other information we could use to track him?”

Miss Alexander gave the dispatcher all of the necessary information she needed before they both bid farewells and hung up on each other. Miss Alexander placed her phone on top of the desk in front of her, her hands planted firmly on the surface as she hung her head in exhaustion, releasing tension from out of her body with one, loud sigh. She was only an assistant principal, but boy, did she have a lot on her hands or what?

Right when she was about to start cleaning the area up, her eyes narrowed at something poking out of Mr. Sawyer’s desk. The inside of the desk drawer she was looking in was pretty dark since the thing was only half opened, but inside was an orange prescription bottle. The label glued to it was facing down on the inside, so she couldn’t see a name on it or what the medicine inside was for.

After debating on it for a few seconds, Miss Alexander opened the drawer some more, shaking the thing a bit so she would accidentally touch it and get her fingerprints on it – the cops might need it for more evidence of the crime itself. Once the bottle rolled over some, she could see the text on it a little clearer than before, and that’s when she learned that this wasn’t Mr. Sawyer’s medication.

These were, in fact, Ian’s meds for his bipolar disorder.

“Oh, my God.”

* * *

It was a little trickier than he thought it would be, but Mr. Sawyer finally made it back home with a passed-out Ian Gallagher in his possession. He lost Mickey a while back somewhere, thanks to the assistance of the street lights on his side, and no one around him suspected anything yet, so he was currently in the clear.

Ian was limp on his king-sized bed, unaware that he was in his boss’s home right now. That’s how Mr. Sawyer wanted it. He probably didn’t want Ian to be here in this type of manner – drugging him until he appeared lifeless in front of him – but Mr. Sawyer was a ruthless man who would try to get some type of power over somebody. Desperate didn’t even fully describe what he was in that moment.

Mr. Sawyer shrugged his suit jacket off and threw it onto a chair on the other side of the room before he gazed down at the younger man before him. Ian was an all-around perfect human being; Mr. Sawyer could see why his husband wanted anything to do with him. Ian was very attractive. His muscles were the perfect size and surfaced his body in the best way possible. Mr. Sawyer could feel his own palms sweat at the idea of man-handling Ian and touching every inch of his body like he was his.

He wanted him to be his. He was definitely his.

 _He’s mine_.

His face inched closer and closer to the temple of Ian’s head and hovered there for a moment, taking in Ian’s scent. He smelled like pine trees, and that smell alone tingled his senses. He could imagine that scent sticking to his bed sheets and pillows with time. All he needed to do was keep the redhead where he wanted him, and he would be just fine.

“I’ll see you when you wake up, Mr. Gallagher,” Mr. Sawyer whispered in a dark and very creepy tone. Ian couldn’t hear a thing he said due to the drugs in his system, and that’s what prompted a smile from the older man’s face before kissing the redhead on the temple before leaving the room to change clothes.

* * *

At this point, Mickey was getting lost. After that one stop light that separated him from Ian and that jackass boss, he had no idea where to go. Beyond that one street turn, he couldn’t seem to find them anymore, so Mickey later settled with parking a few inches away from a handicap-able parking space.

He felt terrible – not just about the kidnapping in general or losing track of the older man on the road, but also for the series of events that led him here, parked in an unknown area with no sense of direction or any options on where to go from there.

He doomed Ian. Their relationship has hit bumpy roads before, but previous times were nothing like this. Now Ian was in a stranger’s car with some drugs in his system, from the way he never responded to any of Mr. Sawyer’s movements. Whether Ian had awaken yet or not didn’t matter, because he had absolutely no idea on where the hell he was taken to. Who knows if Mr. Sawyer even took Ian’s phone away from him or not? It’s not the worst thing that’s happened today, not with knowing that Mr. Sawyer is a cynical bastard without having to do so. Still, that was Mickey’s only way to keep in touch with Ian, and the redhead wasn’t even picking up on the other line.

Mickey had no idea what to do. His heart was beating against his rib cage, and he tried sucking in whatever oxygen he could grasp out of that car of his. He had been living substantially for the past few years now, working at a car company and earning enough money to afford Ian’s medication and Yevgeny’s textbooks. Still, it didn’t feel worth it when he didn’t have it.

It wasn’t. It wasn’t worth it without Ian.

A tear freely fell down the man’s cheek as he stared ahead at a parked car in front of him. His chin trembled slightly at the possible danger Ian could be in right now. For all he knew, Mr. Sawyer could be running his hands all over the ginger-haired man, grinning from ear to ear as he listened to Ian cry for any source of help and then spanking him hard with a belt, silencing him followed by some kind of death threat. Sure, Ian and Mickey have hit each other before, but neither one of them wished death on the other. Maybe Mickey had been a little threatening during his younger years before he came out, but not even he could be as cruel as Ian’s boss probably would be to him.

Mickey found himself putting his hands back on the steering wheel, having trouble finding the energy to grip onto it as hard as he had been previously. He debated on going back home and then waiting for some kind of news segment to come on, warning the city that Mr. Sawyer is a predatory jackass with Mickey’s husband in his possession – something news reporters usually did in situations like that. Mickey didn’t want to give up on him – and he technically wasn’t since the cops have been contacted during the car chase – but the dark thoughts clogging Mickey’s brain felt too heavy in his system. He’s tried too hard to keep Ian by his side for so many years, and the thought of either losing him or reuniting with a more emotionally- and mentally-damaged version of him broke his heart to bits.

Suddenly, his phone started to buzz in the car seat right next to him. Mickey snapped out of his own thoughts, assuming that Ian contacted him once again. Instead, the phone number for Yevgeny’s school appeared on the screen. It was probably the assistant principal calling back for something extra to discuss. As much as Mickey wanted to ignore it, he had to know what else was happening to distract him from this tragedy.

So he finally picked up his cell phone, pressed the green button, and brought the device up to his ear. “Hello?” His voice sounded a little low and hoarse, even if he only cried for a few seconds. Another tear fell from his eye. He needed to learn how to relieve himself from the tears he almost always held back.

“Mr. Milkovich?”

Mickey sniffled a bit and wiped some of the tears that had fallen down to his nose. He probably looked like shit right now – and even sounded like shit, too – but he didn’t give two shits. “Yeah?”

“We have a problem.”

His heart pumped about two times faster than before, if that was remotely possible. What more trouble could there be other than Ian getting drugged and kidnapped by his boss? “What’s going on?”

The other line was silent for a moment, and Mickey didn’t know whether to scream at her for an answer or sit back and anticipate the next few words that come out of her mouth. Miss Alexander’s voice was a little shaky, from what Mickey could tell, and that worried the shit out of him.

Finally, before Mickey could even utter out a word, Miss Alexander spoke back, “I found your husband’s medication. They were in Mr. Sawyer’s desk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna make this chapter really long and conclude everything, but I left this story hanging for almost 2 weeks. I don't wanna procrastinate on my stories again or make the ending of the story half-assed, so I decided to add a fifth chapter and hopefully wrap things up there. Trust me. It's gonna get interesting.
> 
> Also, sorry for being absent for so long; Cameron Monaghan has been nominated for the Teen Choice Awards, for those who keep up with my posts on Tumblr. He's nominated for Choice TV Villain (for Gotham), and it would be awesome if he won the award. So if you want to vote for him, US residents can vote [here](http://vote.teenchoice.com), and anyone can vote on Twitter with the hashtags #ChoiceTVVillain, #Gotham, and #TeenChoice (and Cam's Twitter handle). You can only vote once per login method per day, but retweets/quoting tweets on Twitter counts as multiple votes. Voting ends on June 23rd for the 2nd wave of categories, and that's why I've been so busy. I wanted to do as much promoting/voting as possible. Other than that, yeah, that was my little PSA for you.
> 
> If you ever want to talk to me about anything, you're more than welcome to stop by [my Tumblr](http://promqueen-and-hairgel.tumblr.com). I'm not taking prompts yet, because I still have other stuff going on (other fics, summer classes - which just started yesterday - maybe some exercising, assuming I can actually stick with it ffs, etc.). I'm sorry this is going slow, guys, but I'm human, too. I go at a different pace for different things, and I want you all to understand that, is all.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you have a good day/night, and happy reading. <3


	5. Class Dismissed

Ian woke up feeling completely dazed from the nap he wound up in – or at least that’s what he classified it as.

When his eyes clear up, he suddenly realizes that he’s not in a familiar location. This place is nothing like the bedroom he and Mickey share. No, the walls are painted a somewhat light blue – completely in contrast with the white walls in Ian and Mickey’s. There was an almost giant window on Ian’s left side, with lace curtains covering them. Usually, when Ian woke up in his and Mickey’s king-sized bed, a dresser and the door to their shared bathroom would be on Ian’s left.

None of this seemed right at all.

“Good morning, Mr. Gallagher.” The mysterious voice startled Ian wide awake, and when the redhead turned his head towards the door, he noticed Mr. Sawyer standing there with nothing but a white undershirt, his slacks, and some white and gray socks.

This is Mr. Sawyer’s home.

Ian watched in confusion as the man in front of him smiled simply, strolling over to the younger man and taking a seat right next to him. “So glad you were able to enjoy your rest.” Ian’s heart beat picked up the second Mr. Sawyer got close to him. Why were they here instead of the school? Why isn’t Mr. Sawyer in his work attire? Why wasn’t Ian himself dressed in his own clothes? Why was –

Why was Ian tied to the goddamn bed?

“Where am I?” Ian panicked. If he wasn’t shaking before, he sure as hell was now. “Where are we? I-I need to go back to school. Th-they need me –“

“Shh,” his boss replied calmly, bringing his index finger closer to Ian’s lips. Ian watched in shock as Mr. Sawyer brought his hand from near his lips to the top of Ian’s head to brush away the red strands that had fallen over his forehead. “I appointed a substitute; the students should all be fine by now.”

Ian shook his head rapidly. He never had a substitute for his class before. He always found some way to come to work on time and ready to teach. When Yevgeny had doctor’s appointments either early in the morning or halfway before his school day was done, Mickey would always swing by to pick him up so Ian could focus on his lesson plans. And Ian wasn’t the one to get sick that often, so he never took a sick day, either. Not even on days where he just felt gloomy on the inside from his bipolar disorder.

A substitute just won’t do. _This_ – whatever the hell it even was – just won’t do.

“No, you don’t understand,” Ian spoke, trying to sit up but realizing that the restraints – Mr. Sawyer’s ties – were holding him down. “I’ve never missed a class before, and those kids need me. You have to take me back. I can’t – I can’t be here. I can’t.”

The silence on Mr. Sawyer’s end of the conversation made Ian nervous. Mr. Sawyer wanted Ian to be here, despite everything Ian’s saying. Mr. Sawyer doesn’t give two shits about Ian’s job or his current state of mind; it’s clear from Ian’s point of view that all he wants is a good fuck in the mattress. Ian should have known that the kiss Mr. Sawyer initiated would lead into something else. He knew. It was all just a matter of watching his own back that he failed to do.

 _I’m so fucking ignorant_.

Mr. Sawyer finally shrugged in response to Ian’s constant begging. “Like I said, Mr. Gallagher,” he spoke, adjusting himself on the bed so every inch of Ian’s face and upper body was in his line of sight. He was now leaning down on the bed, his elbow digging deep into the mattress, and his face was closer to Ian’s than previously. “All of your students are fine. You have nothing to worry about.”

His emphasis on the word _nothing_ felt so contradictory. Ian had a lot to worry about, like why Ian was tied to the goddamn bed and why his clothes had been stripped off his body. What if the other employees in the school had no idea where they even were and –

Oh God. Mickey and Yevgeny. What if they were looking for him?

“Now let’s get on with the lesson plans, shall we?” Mr. Sawyer’s voice got deeper than Ian expected it to be, and that glimpse of a smile on his face sent shivers down Ian’s spine. Before Ian knew it, Mr. Sawyer closed the gap between their faces, placing his lips against Ian’s.

Ian didn’t want this. He didn’t want any man other than Mickey kissing his lips. Those were Mickey’s lips. He earned them through years and years of struggle the two faced as teenagers, and the concept was the same vice versa. Mr. Sawyer hasn’t done one thing for him that earned the older man those lips. They were all Mickey’s – no one else’s – yet here he was, forcing Ian into doing something he didn’t want to do.

Ian couldn’t do this; he wanted out.

However, even as he tried to pull his wrists against the ties, they wouldn’t loosen up. Mr. Sawyer had him secured in place. Ian couldn’t go anywhere.

Mr. Sawyer felt Ian squirm underneath him, and that’s when he released their lips for only a second to reply with, “it’s okay. We’re alone now. Just focus on me.”

“No, no, no, no, no!” Ian quickly replied in a mantra to the older man, but it was no use, for Mr. Sawyer leaned back into the kiss, his lips pressing harder into Ian’s. He swung his right leg over Ian’s body so that he was hovering over the redhead. Now that Mr. Sawyer was on top of him, Ian couldn’t even move his legs or the rest of his body.

He was stuck.

Tears started to form in Ian’s eyes, because this was becoming his reality. He was this close to getting raped by his own boss, and Ian had no control over the situation. He had no one to call or nowhere to go. He was helpless, and the worst part was that he had no clue as to whether or not someone was looking for them – or no clue as to whether or not they knew their current location.

A tear finally fell out of Ian’s right eye, and then another came from his left. He didn’t want to be here. He just wanted to go home. He should have listened to Mickey when he told him to wait until he dropped Yevgeny off at school so they could get a refill on Ian’s medication. Neither Ian nor Mickey would be here if it wasn’t for Ian, the redhead thought as Mr. Sawyer’s lips kept pressing down on his, occasionally running his hands through Ian’s hair, and Ian felt extremely disappointed in himself.

* * *

Mickey had been shaking for the past few minutes, but not from sadness and worry. He was genuinely pissed. All this time, he believed Ian just ran out of medication. Just moments ago, Mickey learned from Miss Alexander that the meds had been stolen, and when those words finally registered in Mickey’s brain, he wanted nothing more than to find that son of a bitch and beat the living shit out of him.

As hesitant about Mickey’s suggestion as Miss Alexander was, she had given him the address to Mr. Sawyer’s home after recovering the information she has on him. The second they hung up, Mickey started his car again and drove out of the parking space and on the road again. Mickey had to find that man and give him a piece of his mind. He had to save Ian and get him back to safety.

Mr. Sawyer lived in a neighborhood Mickey never been in before. All of the houses on that street looked new, though some of them were older than they should be. Mickey kept his eyes peeled for the one he should be arriving at, although some of these buildings didn’t appear to have numbers on them.

And then, he found it, thanks to the couple of cop cars that managed to get there before him.

There was a small, brick house near the end of the neighborhood with white porch steps, black window frames, a black door, and a matching black mailbox near the white picket fence. To the house’s right was a little garage, and right in front of the garage door, Mickey could see Mr. Sawyer’s parked car.

From the outside, it was the American Dream. Inside, though, could be a completely different story, and Mickey will never know unless he actually goes in.

Mickey parked his car by the curb and turned off the ignition before hopping out of his vehicle. Red and blue flashing lights blinded his eyes a bit throughout the block, and policemen were jumping out with guns in their hands, prepared to shoot Mr. Sawyer in the event that he would open the door and make the biggest mistake of his life.

Secretly, Mickey wanted that, especially the sick fuck believed all this time he could put his hands on Mickey’s husband.

* * *

Mr. Sawyer’s lips had been pressing against Ian’s for the past five minutes or so, and his hair combed through the younger man’s red hair on occasion. Meanwhile, below him, Ian gave up on crying for help since Mr. Sawyer had him trapped like a cage bird. No one on the outside would be able to hear him, and he still had his wrists tied up against the headboard of the bed.

Ian had nowhere to go and no one to help. He might as well be doomed from here on out.

And then the sounds of sirens were heard outside the moment Mr. Sawyer’s hand slid towards the waist band of Ian’s boxers.

 _Thank God_.

Mr. Sawyer stopped kissing Ian and turned his head towards the window. Red and blue lights were flashing through the lace curtains. How the cops managed to find him, he wasn’t sure. He had never given the Gallagher-Milkovich clan his address before.

Unless…

His eyes darted back to Ian, grabbing his neck to bang his head against the pillow underneath. “Did you bring them here? How did they get to my house?”

Ian really wished he had the use of his hands so he could slap some sense into this man. More importantly, he just wanted to save himself from dying of suffocation from this man. His hands were just too goddamn strong for no reason. “What? No, I –“

Before either one of them could speak, an intercom was heard from outside. “Roderick Sawyer, we have you surrounded. Please come out with your hands in the air!”

Mr. Sawyer was doomed. He had been followed this time – or he had been tracked; whichever didn’t matter. A part of him believed Ian when he said that he didn’t have anything to do with this, though he could very well be lying just to save his own ass. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he needed to cover his tracks.

Ian laid back and watched as the older man climbed off the bed and darted towards the chair in the corner of the room, albeit carefully so no one would catch him moving in the window. “W-W-What’s going on?” Ian asked, watching his boss cover himself with the dress shirt and suit jacket he left over there. “What are you doing?”

No response. Mr. Sawyer had to get out of here quickly. Maybe if he snuck out through the back, he could make it out of the neighborhood a little easier and hopefully hide out long enough so the cops would stop looking for them. Of course, this was a long shot, and Mr. Sawyer’s not the smartest of criminals, but he valued determination and motivation ever since he started working at Daley Graham High School. If he can get over a thousand students to graduate per year, he can do this.

Or so he hopes.

“We’re getting out of here.”

Ian’s heart continued to beat again, scared as to what kind of plan Mr. Sawyer had cooking up. Kidnapping Ian in the first place was bad enough; running away from the law was even worse. “Wait, what the fuck?”

“I need to get you out of here,” Mr. Sawyer mumbled under his breath, buttoning the buttons on his dress shirt.

“Yes, get me out of here and send me back to my husband,” Ian argued. “He’s looking for me.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why the fuck not?” Ian asked out of anger. It wasn’t until Mr. Sawyer barged over to him with his nostrils flared, he started to retreat a bit.

Mr. Sawyer’s face was close to Ian’s face again, their noses almost touching. Only this time, the older man’s eyes weren’t full of lust like they were before. They were threatening and dangerous. “You don’t have a say in this at all,” he growled at Ian, pointing a finger at him. “You hear me? No say. One word out of her, and you’ll regret it the moment after it comes out.”

This version of Mr. Sawyer was completely different than the sexually-impatient version of him from moments ago. Ian didn’t like it. He didn’t want to be here with him; he wanted to be with Mickey, but he also knew that Mr. Sawyer wouldn’t let him go, either. No matter what Ian did, he was stuck with this man. Even if he busted out free, trouble could easy sneak up behind him.

Ian didn’t even realize Mr. Sawyer walked over to his desk until he snapped out of his daze. He had taken a circular object out of the desk and brought it over to the bed.

A roll of duct tape.

“No, no, no!” Ian panicked, trying to loosen the ties on his wrists again. However, it was too late, for Mr. Sawyer had already taped his mouth shut. That was when he untied the ties from Ian’s wrists, only to tape both of his wrists together. Ian continued mumbling something underneath the tape, but Mr. Sawyer didn’t pay attention. He was too focused on getting out of here.

Mr. Sawyer grabbed Ian’s pants from off the floor and pushed them up Ian’s legs. When he was done, he grabbed Ian’s shirt and jacket from off the ground. As he did so, he overheard the policeman over the intercom again. “Last chance, Sawyer! Come on out!”

 _Not a chance_ , Mr. Sawyer thought once everything was prepared.

He grabbed onto Ian’s bicep and dragged him off the bed, pulling the younger man out of the bedroom and through the house. He turned his head towards the front door, making sure no one busted through yet before turning back around to drag Ian towards the back door. Once he was there, he unlocked the back door and opened it as slowly and carefully as possible. So far, no one was in the backyard, meaning that they had a bit of time to hop over the fence.

 _Almost out, Sawyer. Almost out_.

* * *

Mickey was getting pretty anxious. The man hadn’t opened the front door yet, although his car was definitely parked in front of his own garage. Whatever was going on inside worried Mickey. What if Mr. Sawyer had already done what he wanted to Ian? What if Ian is really hurt? What if…what if…

He didn’t want to think that far. He couldn’t put it in his head that his husband may have gotten killed before the cops arrived here. That can’t be possible.

So Mickey paces around a bit for a couple of seconds, taking somewhat deep breaths to calm himself down. All he needed was some kind of miracle for today. He needed a sign that Ian would actually make it out okay and that his jackass boss would leave him alone.

And that’s when he and the policemen by their cars heard a muffled shout.

“Ian?” Mickey spoke to himself breathlessly as he directed his eyes towards the fence. His eyes followed the white picket fence until he could see the backyard – or at least a fraction of it – and that’s when he faintly saw someone’s profile. His back was showing, and he had on the same dress shirt Mr. Sawyer had on when he escaped.

He and Ian were trying to get away. Mickey couldn’t let that happen.

“Hey! Sir, what are you doing?” one of the cops asked Mickey as he darted over towards the backyard gate. “He might be armed –“

“He’s back here,” Mickey called back, beckoning the men by their cars. He turned back around, and when he did, he could see Mr.  Sawyer’s face completely. He looked angry yet determined to get him and Ian out of there before the cops held him down.

 _Not on my fucking watch_ , Mickey thought as he hopped over the fence and ran towards him.

Mr. Sawyer returned to the wooden box sitting by the fence in the backyard. He had already gotten Ian on the other side. Now he just needed to hop over before –

“Freeze!” a cop called, running in the direction Mickey had gone in. When the principal turned his head, Mickey yanked his arm and pulled him away from the fence so the cops could get a better hold of him – but not without giving the man his signature punch in the face, along with one of his kicks in the side, giving the older man bruises for days. Mickey could have done more than that, but a cop pulled him away before he had the chance.

Two cops were on Mr. Sawyer, trying to get him to put his hands behind his back, and two more swung over the fence to help a taped-up Ian off the grass in someone else’s yard. Mickey was shaking a little bit from the anger that was radiating through his system and the fear he had been holding in since Ian was first kidnapped. Now that he was certain that his husband was alive, he could finally breathe a little evenly now.

“Roderick Sawyer,” a cop started, getting the handcuffs on his wrists, “you’re under arrest for kidnapping…and any and all other charges that apply.” Mickey had to agree on that part, honestly; who knows what else that man could have done to Ian that they’re not aware of?

The two other cops came around with Ian safely in their possession. They managed to get the tape off his mouth and wrists, and even got his shirt and jacket on for him. Ian had dry tear stains on his face, and he was shaking from the chill outside. Mickey didn’t like it when he looked like this. He looked so broken, so cold.

“Ian,” Mickey finally spoke, walking in his direction. Ian didn’t even smile back, and that alone was a little triggering and devastating for Mickey.

“Excuse me, sir,” the cop to Ian’s left spoke, “we have to get Ian down to the station for some questioning, but you can still come with us.”

Mickey nodded, some relief rushing through his veins. “Thank you, officer.”

“No problem.”

* * *

Miss Alexander had gotten home late that day due to a conference she had to hold with the PTA. When she did manage to settle down some, she turned on the television, and what came on the screen surprised and relieved her all at the same time.

“Breaking news here in Chicago,” a female reporter spoke to the screen, “Daley Graham High School principal Roderick Sawyer has been arrested earlier today. According to the police, he had kidnapped one of his employees with the intent to fulfill his sexual desires. Ian Gallagher, a newly-hired English teacher, was the victim of this crime, and sources say that he has been drugged by his boss following a mental breakdown this morning due to the absence of his bipolar medication. Sawyer has been charged with kidnapping, sexual assault, drug possession, and drug trafficking. He will likely be facing thirty years in prison and paying a fine up to thirty-five thousand dollars.”

Miss Alexander’s shoulders slumped as she observed the interviews from witnesses on the screen, one of them being Mickey following Mr. Sawyer’s arrest. She was actually glad that she got to help Ian and Mickey out with their situation. Hopefully, they were somewhere safe where they belong and recovering from the big day they just had.

But she also can’t vision working alongside that man anymore – or any other man or woman who would abuse their power for their own satisfaction, for that matter. That wasn’t what Graham High needed. Graham High needed someone who actually cared about the students and their education, and clearly, Roderick Sawyer wasn’t the person for them.

Miss Alexander wanted to be that person. She’s been around longer than any newcomer has, and she knows more about the students than anyone else – even Mr. Sawyer, who didn’t even bother to greet his students with a hello unless they were to say it to him first. Besides, she practically knows what goes into being a principal, for she’s been an assistant for so long.

And the moment the topic on the screen changed, Miss Alexander declared it her mission to become the next principal of Daley Graham High.

Moments after watching the news for a little bit, she went to put some of her stuff away onto the bookshelves in her little office space. As she was preparing to put one of her binders up, she noticed a pink sticky note stand out from it. Written on it were the last five numbers of Mickey Milkovich’s cell phone number. A part of her really wanted to call him and see if he and Ian were doing alright, but she wasn’t sure if she was invading space or not.

There was no other way to tell but to try and call.

So she took the note out of the binder, grabbed her house phone, and started dialing the numbers. She only had to wait a few seconds before she heard Mickey pick up on the other line. “Hello?” he asked. It wasn’t that late yet, so he couldn’t have been asleep or anything – unless he managed to take a nap or something once he and Ian got home.

“I-I’m sorry,” the woman spoke cautiously. “Are you – is this a bad time, or…?”

Mickey sighed a bit, turning his head so he could look down at the redhead leaning against his left shoulder. They actually got home a while ago, for they had to pick Yevgeny up from school. Mickey hadn’t returned to work that day, though, because he knew how much Ian was hurting right now, and he just needed to be there for him. After all, he did get kidnapped and kissed against his will – _twice_ , for the latter. “Uh…not really,” Mickey confessed, tightening his hold around Ian’s body, “but he’s not doing so well right now…”

“Did Yevgeny give you the medication I gave him today?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we got it.”

Miss Alexander gulped, going back to the earlier mention of Ian in their conversation. He was one of the best new teachers to step foot into that school. What happened to him was nothing less than damaging, and she felt really bad for him. “I am so, so sorry, Mr. Milkovich,” she replied after a few seconds of composure. “I guess you never know who someone is until their true colors come out.”

Mickey shook his head a bit, leaning his cheek a little on Ian’s head. “No, no. It’s not your fault or anything, but you kinda have a point.”

“I just wanted to call to let you know that I wanted to fix all of this,” Miss Alexander explained. “I, of course, can’t fix the trauma that’s surfacing in Ian’s head, but I at least want to make the school environment a little safer for him and Yevgeny.” She took in a deep breath for a moment and added, “I’m going to take over Mr. Sawyer’s position.”

Mickey was more than grateful for her, if he wasn’t before. Miss Alexander’s one of the kindest employees he and Ian met since the redhead got hired. The fact that she was able to stick with the couple during this crisis was amazing. Mickey actually believed she would make a great principal. Hopefully, the school board will agree with him on that.

“That’s…that’s awesome,” Mickey responded with a smile on his face.

“I just wanted to let you know first, after everything that’s happened. I’m trying to clean the pieces as best as I can. I care a lot about you guys and the other families of this school. I want to work on the things that matter.”

Mickey nodded with every word she said. Flashbacks of the day he first brought Yevgeny to this school started to appear in his head. Back then, Mickey actually trusted Mr. Sawyer that he would do anything to keep Yevgeny’s head in the books. Turns out, Yevgeny didn’t even need the older man to keep his head in the books. In fact, none of the students needed him, even if earlier encounters with the former principal contradicted that. On the outside, Mr. Sawyer looks as though he actually wanted to help them; on the inside, he just wanted some power over someone else.

Miss Alexander’s the polar opposite of him. She actually takes the time to talk to students about their conduct and grades, and she even comes to those in times of hurt and sorrow, like she was doing now with Mickey. No one else could be the better role model for this school than her.

“You’ve been a really great help to us, man,” Mickey finally spoke after a moment of thinking to himself. “Again, I…I really hope you get it.”

Miss Alexander smiled at his words, confident that she can improve the learning space for not just Yevgeny, but for Ian as well. They both deserved that kind of redemption from the institution. “In the meantime, I want you to tell Ian he can stay home for as long as he wants, until he’s ready to come back to class. I’ll have a substitute cover for him while he’s gone.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Anytime. Have a good rest of your day.”

“You, too.” With that, both of them hung their phones, and Mickey was left alone with a little bit of silence, minus the sniffling that came from Ian’s nose. He rubbed his arm up and down for comfort, giving the top of his head a gentle kiss. Ian was stabilized, thanks to the meds, but he was still shaken. Mickey can’t imagine how he’s feeling right now.

“W…was that…?” Ian croaked, his eyes glancing up at the blue ones right next to him. His eyes were a little puffy from all the crying, and Mickey’s stomach wouldn’t stop dropping at the sight.

“Assistant principal,” Mickey replied. “She called because she wanted to be the principal of the school, and she wanted to check in with us and shit.”

Ian nodded, his eyes falling back to their legs on the mattress in front of them. A lot of energy had been drained out of him since he woke up after the kidnapping. He was still in shock to know that he had been drugged and taken out of the school in the first place. How could he have missed all of that?

“Ian?” he heard his husband say, and Ian dared to take another glance at Mickey’s face. Earlier, he could tell Mickey was crying, probably from the fear of losing Ian altogether. Ian immediately felt bad. This wouldn’t have happened if he just stayed home like Mickey suggested.

Then again, neither one of them would have found out about Mr. Sawyer taking the medication. Regardless, though, Ian felt as though this whole day was a terrible mistake on his part, and he regretted it every chance he had.

“I am so sorry, Mick,” he pleaded, feeling more tears form in his eyes. He watched as Mickey bit down on his bottom lip, bracing himself for the water works that would overcome them within a matter of seconds. “I should have listen to you.” He paused for a bit now that a tear made its way out of his eyes. “I should have – I should have fucking listened to you, and then none of this would have happened in the first place."

Mickey was heartbroken at the sight of Ian’s face. Sure, the two of them had their differences from time to time, but Mickey didn’t want Ian to blame himself for all of this. In fact, Mickey felt as though he should take some of the blame, too. He shouldn’t have pressured Ian so much to take his medicine in the first place. Ian doesn’t like being babied, as he’s stated before, and Mickey has a tendency to forget sometimes.

That’s what landed them here. That’s what almost got Ian raped…or killed.

“Come here,” Mickey whispered to the taller man. He can feel his own tears coming along, but right now, he had to be strong for Ian. He wanted to at least remind him that the past is the past now, and that they’re finally back together. That was all that mattered to him. “Ian, come here,” he whispered again, adjusting his back against the pillow and headboard some more, and Ian did the same.

Now, they were both gazing in each other’s eyes, Ian’s looking completely hopeless and hurt. Mickey slowly brought his hands to Ian’s face, feeling the salty tears against them and rubbing some of them away. “It’s not your fault.”

“Mick –“

“Ian, it’s not your fault.” Mickey scooted closer to Ian so he could give the redhead a soft kiss on the lips. When they let go, they had their foreheads still connected as they deepened their gaze on each other. Mickey kept rubbing soothing circles on Ian’s cheek with his thumb, not once looking into another direction as he tried to maintain Ian’s attention.

“ _I love you_.” At those words, Ian’s face scrunched up a bit, and more tears started to fall down his face. Mickey’s chin trembled at the sight, but he kept kissing Ian’s lips and repeated the same three words to him after every kiss, trying to bring him back down to earth as best as he could.

“ _I love you. I love you. I love you_.”

A while after Mickey had stopped speaking, Ian sniffled a bit, glancing back in Mickey’s direction and nodding with shaky breaths.

“ _I love you, too_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sleep deprived for the past month, really. I just really needed to get some rest, figure some things out - that kind of thing. I want to work on exercising for the next few months because I really have some self-loathing problems I need to iron out. But yeah, that's the update on my end. That, and I went to the movies with some friends on Thursday (Central Intelligence was so fucking funny; I honestly wanna see it again, but I know I need to see my other summer movies first before that happens), so that was fun.
> 
> Also, I'm changing the title for the fourth chapter of this. I wasn't expecting five chapters of this, but now that I do, I want to change the title to something a little simpler.
> 
> If I don't have a fic uploaded tomorrow (I want to do one for the Fourth of July, but idk when it'll get uploaded or what the story would even be about), I hope everyone has a good holiday weekend. For those seeing fireworks anywhere, be safe. And if you want to come talk to me, [my ask box](http://aridayagrande.tumblr.com/ask) is always open. I love getting to talk to people. Happy 4th, and happy reading. <3


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